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He made a quiet sound of approval.
“Olivia told me about what happened with Lucien and the Romano girl.”
He raised his head a little. “Oh?”
I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair and he flipped onto his back to look up at me. I traced down his nose to his mouth and he watched me, intently following my every move.
“Does Lucien hate women?”
“A bit, yes.”
“Oh. Do you?”
“No, why would I?” He frowned.
“Because he’s your brother and he had that happen to him. He’s probably messed up from it,” I said. “I thought maybe you would feel the same way.”
He sighed. “I misspoke. Lucien doesn’t hate women, he just had his trust broken in a horrible way. So yes, I was affected by it, but not to the extent that he was. It’s complicated.”
“It seems like it,” I mused. “Olivia’s more complicated than I thought too. Have you heard some of the things her family put her through? All so she would be perfect for Lucien. It’s terrible. No wonder she’s so nervous sometimes.”
“Olivia is a typical mafia princess,” he said dismissively. “Most of them starve themselves to fit in designer clothes and get their faces done in the hopes their men won’t fuck younger women. It never works out.”
I leaned back against the headboard. “Will you do that?”
His eyes moved over my face and there was something in them. Almost tenderness. “All the men in my family do. But I’m not sure I want to follow in their footsteps. Anyway, if I fucked you, I’d be fucking a younger woman.” The last sentence was accompanied by a slight smirk.
“I’m twenty-one,” I said defensively.
“I’ll be thirty in six months.”
I sat up a little and braced against the headboard to look down at him. “Really? I thought you were maybe twenty-five.”
He sat upright and took me by the waist, pulling me down and moving atop me in a fluid movement. His mouth trailed down the side of my throat and my body set on fire, heat traveling down my stomach and pooling between my thighs. God, he was good at this. I lay still, my fingers against his sides, and let him kiss and lick up my neck down to my breasts. He took my right nipple in his mouth and flicked it, sending an electrical current down to my sex.
“Can I have you tonight?” he whispered. His hard arousal ground into my thigh and for a moment I was tempted to give in.
“You know what I told you,” I said.
He sighed and rolled off me, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. I know and I won’t bother you about it tonight. But I am sleeping in my room because you’re giving me a fucking terrible case of blue balls.”
He stood and leaned over me, his fingers running over my breasts as he kissed me. Then he dressed and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I rolled over and looked up at the balcony doors, the moonlight falling through the glass and making patterns across the floor. There was something so peaceful about the mansion. I could be happy here.
Chapter Seven
I woke to a loud crashing sound in the stairwell. My mornings had been tranquil up to this point and I wasn’t used to being woken so abruptly. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I rolled over and checked the time. Five-thirty. I frowned, getting to my feet, and ducked in the bathroom to get my dressing gown.
Cinching it around my waist, I stepped into the empty hall. From where I stood, I could hear raised voices in the front hallway, conversing in angry Italian. Then a clattering of footsteps sounded from the staircase and Duran strode around the corner, his phone to his ear, and headed directly for me. His face was impassive, his whole demeanor more intense; he’d stepped into the role of mafia soldier and it fit him like a glove. Intimidated, I shrank back to the door and retreated to my room, heart pounding.
He burst through. “Good, you’re awake. Get dressed.”
“What?” I looked around in confusion. “Duran, what’s happening?”
He hung up the phone and went to the closet, throwing down a suitcase and kicking it toward me. “It’s not safe here anymore. We have to go. There’s a private plane coming to take us in thirty minutes and I need you ready. Pack your things.”
He darted into the bathroom and began scooping my toiletries into a bag. There was a focus I’d never seen before on his face and a darkness flashing in the corners of his gaze. I went to the closet with shaking fingers and began taking my clothes down and folding them into the suitcase. From the bathroom, Duran’s phone rang loud and shrill and I jumped.
“Yes? Good, thank you, Ahmed. I owe you,” he said.
